


Never is a Promise

by river_soul



Series: Emily+Dean AU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He held her when she watched her aunt and uncle die, hand warm and firm on the back of her neck as he pressed her face to his chest. He smelt like sweat and something musky that she could still catch when she stands close enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never is a Promise

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you that don’t remember Emily was the girl Dean rescued in Scarecrow.

 

_never is a promise  
and you can't afford to lie_

\---

The sun is just rising when they finally make it back into town but its warmth is not enough to erase the morning chill. They follow her into her aunt and uncle's house and stop behind her when Emily stills in the entry way, gazing at the picture of them together. It was taken at the harvest festival last year. Her aunt and uncle are smiling and she’s laughing at something they’ve said, mouth wide and open with a happiness she’d lost the day her parents died. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until Dean clears his throat behind her. She jerks into motion, going upstairs to her bedroom.  
  
She puts as much clothing as she can in the duffle bag and the single picture of her parents on the nightstand too. There is nothing else from the house she wants.  
  
Downstairs she hears the engine of the Impala sputter to life and she pauses outside at her aunt and uncle's bedroom. She can see half finished knitting abandoned on the old recliner and reading glasses by the desk. Her stomach lurches when she enters, skin clammy with fear as kneels on the floor. She takes the wad of cash from the tin box under their bed and shoves it in her bag.

She doesn’t look back.

 

\---

There are no seatbelts in the back of the Impala and when Dean takes the corner too sharp she slides across the smooth leather, legs and arms going in all directions. It takes her a while to find a way to brace herself, and each time Sam turns around to face her, concerned and apologetic, Emily can see Dean watching her in the rear-view mirror. His face gives away nothing when she brushes off Sam’s apology with a pleasant smile and reassuring voice.  
  
She can feel his eyes flicker between her and the road and when they think she’s asleep she watches them exchange a glance, a silent argument that makes Dean’s shoulders hunch and Sam’s lips thin. They’re arguing about her. Dean didn’t want to take her with them, he wanted to leave Burkitsville far behind. Emily doesn’t know what Sam said to make him change his mind but she’s thankful. She has no family left. No place to go and that scares her.  
  
Sam eases her with talk about a place called Blue Earth in Minnesota and a man named Father Jim who can help her. Dean tells her he’s a good man, the first thing he’s said to her since they left. There is eagerness in his voice that she doesn’t understand, a feeling that he creates inside her, like she’s intruding, offsetting some balance just by being in the backseat. Maybe she is.

 

\---

The first night in the motel room is awkward, for her and Sam, but not Dean. He strips in front of her and she blushes, face and chest hot with embarrassment. She stares for a few minutes, wanting to turn away but unable to until Dean catches her eye and winks. She feels angry and flush when Sam touches her arm gently. He lets her take a shower first and she thinks she can hear them talking about her as she dries off with the thin, ratty motel towel but when she comes out of the bathroom Dean is passed out on the bed near the door.  
  
The tv is on, a soft background noise as Emily crawls into the other bed where Sam has set her bag. She lies under the scratchy covers, pajama bottoms and loose t-shirt sticking to her wet skin. Sleep doesn’t come easy. She thinks about her aunt and uncle and the past four years she lived with them. The thought curls her stomach and she turns over finally.  
  
There is a chair wedged against the door and Dean is snoring irregularly. Emily watches him sleep, face relaxed and sees the yellowing bruise on his forehead from the butt of Sheriff Hill’s rifle. Emily thinks about the Sheriffs son, the one who took her to prom last year and wonders if he knew about the scarecrow.

\---

Emily gives Dean, not Sam, some of the money she took from home for gas and hotels. Sam would have refused, talked her out of the idea but Dean takes the money, counts it before shoving it in his pants. They don’t talk about it again.

\---

Dean, Emily figures out a few miles outside of Minnesota, is pretty much a tool. In every sense of the word.  
  
He’d been solid and comforting when they were bound to the tree, heart slick with adrenaline and fear. He held her when she watched her aunt and uncle die, hand warm and firm on the back of her neck as he pressed her face to his chest. He smelt like sweat and something musky that she could still catch when she stands close enough.  
  
When they’re not in immediate danger though he’s rough and uneven, mouth knowing and smart. She doesn’t understand his relationship with Sam, the tenuous balancing act that keeps them in check. They don’t fight in front of her even when Dean winds him up in the car and she can see the tendons in Sam's neck quiver.  
  
Sam calls him an asshole once, apologizes for his behavior when it’s just them but she doesn’t think he really means it. She remembered the way they were back in the apple grove.

\---

Sam smiles, squeezes her shoulder reassuringly when they enter the church. Dean is holding her duffle bag in one hand, jingling his keys in the other. Emily feels like a burden, something unwanted until Father Jim appears from behind the alter. When he takes her hand in his and smiles Emily thinks everything might be all right.  
  
Emily watches them talk together, familiarity in the position of their bodies. They can’t stay long she knows but Father Jim blesses them before they leave.

He takes her duffel bag from Dean when they’re outside by the Impala saying their goodbyes. Sam hugs her and she holds onto him a little longer then she should. She is afraid for them.Dean stands awkwardly in front of her. He doesn’t touch her but presses a slip of paper in her hand with their cell number on it.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

\---

Father Jim is dead.  
  
Emily finds him in his office, throat slit and drops their groceries on the floor. She stares at the blood, and the knife in the blonde woman's hand, heart thick in her throat and runs.

\---

By the time they arrive she’s salted the house, sitting in the kitchen, white and pale with a hunting axe in her hand. She looks stricken at the sight of them, eyes darting to the silent figure of their father, bound in grief for his friend. Sam steps forward but it’s Dean who touches her shoulder lightly, takes the axe from her hand.  
  
It’s Dean who pulls her to him, hand warm and firm on her neck as he presses his lips to her ear and whispers _it’s ok it’s ok it’s ok_ until she believes him.


End file.
